Reborn As Noble

Gilikan Town’s evening glow bathed the scene in a warm, orange hue, casting long shadows over the newly rebuilt walls. The air was still, but an undercurrent of tension lingered, weighted with unspoken concerns.

“Buddy!” Javier called out.

Cuquawked!?

The majestic orange Pekko perked up instantly, responding to its master with a loud cry, then stomped its sturdy legs in excitement.

“Come. We’re leaving soon,” Javier said, tightening his gloves with calm authority.

Cuquawked!!

Just as he was about to mount, a heavy step approached him—a familiar and respectful presence.

Chief Nofan, his beard now neatly trimmed, bowed deeply. His face bore the weight of his people’s worries.

“My lord… what will happen to us?” Nofan asked, voice thick with concern and hope.

Javier turned to face him, eyes steady.

“You don’t need to worry.”

He gestured toward the town walls, where rows of armored knights stood like statues—still, disciplined, and intimidatingly silent.

“My 500 knights will stay behind.”

The dwarves looked up, awe evident in their eyes. The knights’ armor gleamed—mithril full plate, enchanted swords, magical bows, and crossbows shimmering under the fading light.

They stood unmoving, unwavering.

“But… my lord…” Nofan hesitated.

Javier placed a reassuring hand on Nofan’s shoulder.

“The Beastkin Kingdom is providing full support. They’re protecting you from any remaining Halfling retaliation. And these knights…” He cast a quick glance at his puppet army, “will make sure of it.”

Nofan hesitated, then let out a shaky breath, eyes moistening slightly.

“You… You truly are a strange one, my lord,” he whispered.

Javier gave a small, knowing smirk.

“I get that a lot,” he replied softly, looking toward the horizon, ready to leave the town.

All thirty-nine dwarves lined up along the main road of the town—boys, girls, children, women, and a few remaining adults. Every one of them watched quietly, their eyes shining with hope, respect, and thankfulness.

Their hero was leaving, riding on a bird.

Buddy, Javier’s Pekko, strutted confidently down the stone path. His chest was puffed out like a proud general, and his head moved proudly with every step.

“My lord…” a young dwarf girl whispered.

“My lord…” said another.

One by one, the dwarves called out to him—some softly, some with awe.

Chief Nofan stepped forward. He placed his right fist on his chest and bowed slightly, showing respect.

“My lord…” he said firmly, his voice thick but steady. “Please be careful.”

Javier, already seated on Buddy, looked down at them. The wind tugged at his cloak.

“…I will,” he replied calmly.

Cuquawk!

The Pekko let out a proud squawk and moved forward, carrying Javier away from Gilikan. His cape fluttered behind him as he flew.

The dwarves did not move. They simply watched him go.

At the edge of the road, near the gate leading to the next dwarven town, Commander Raikus stood tall. His arms were crossed, and his long beastkin ears twitched slightly as he watched the young noble approach.

Behind him, a few elite beastkin scouts stayed alert, ready for any threat.

“Lord Javier…” Raikus called out, voice steady but filled with concern, despite the respectful tone. “Are you sure you want to go alone?”

Javier, still on Buddy, paused his Pekko just a few meters from the gate.

“You don’t need to escort me further, Commander.”

Raikus frowned. “Are you certain? You’re heading into dangerous territory. Wouldn’t it be wiser to take at least some of my unit?”

Javier smirked lightly. “I appreciate the offer, but I already have an army.”

Raikus blinked. “You do?”

Javier didn’t respond out loud.

Instead, he raised a hand.

His palm was open.

Mana flowed from his hand—calm, controlled, and sharp as a needle threading an invisible line through the air.

“Summon—Puppet Knights.”

A ripple of magic shimmered from his palm.

The earth trembled slightly.

From the open plains beyond the gate, figures began to appear—emerging from enchanted storage magic into perfect formation.

Rows of knights.

Clad in gleaming mithril full plate armor, each wielding matching swords, spears, bows, or crossbows—completely motionless, flawless, their helmets shining under the moonlight.

Raikus’s eyes widened in surprise.

But Javier didn’t stop there.

He raised two fingers, then snapped them sharply.

Another wave of mana spread across the air like a ripple.

At the very back of the line, towering figures stepped forward.

Heavier.

Taller.

Faintly glowing.

They were Andamantite Knights.

Clad in a rare, mysterious metal few had ever seen in motion.

Their presence alone sent chills through the beastkin soldiers behind Raikus.

“…That’s…” Raikus whispered, narrow-eyed and awestruck.

Javier simply turned his head and smiled.

“I told you, Commander. I have my own army.”

Commander Raikus couldn’t find the words at first.

He stared at the open field where Javier’s army stood in eerie silence—so many figures, perfect and still.

Thousands.

No, not just thousands.

Raikus’s sharp instincts told him the real number almost immediately.

“…Twenty thousand…?” he muttered aloud, voice tinged with disbelief.

His beastkin soldiers behind him also froze in awe.

Every knight was clad in full-body mithril armor—an extremely rare, incredibly durable material. Even the Beastkin Kingdom reserved it for their royal guards because of how hard it was to produce and refine.

And yet… here it was.

A force ten times more elite than anyone had ever seen, summoned without a single trumpet or signal, not led by soldiers—by just one man.

Raikus looked back at Javier, who waited calmly, as if this was all completely normal.

His brow twitched in awe.

“…Is this the power of Armand…?” Raikus whispered aloud.

Javier said nothing.

The faint clink of metal shifting in the wind was the only answer.

Raikus lowered his head slightly, humbled.

“…You really are something else, Lord Javier.”

Javier tilted his head a little, pretending to be modest.

“Just a few walking tools,” he said softly.

Raikus nearly choked.

“Mithril armor… magic-linked weapons… And I swear I saw at least ten of those knights wearing adamantite plating.”

He rubbed his forehead, overwhelmed.

“This isn’t just wealth. This is technology. Strategy. Armand’s level is… far beyond what we expected.”

He looked back at the silent, towering force—realizing that not a single one of them was human—and understood the depth of Javier’s power.

( End Of Chapter )

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